CHAPTER IV

SOMERS' REAL NAME


Detective Lowney, who had come with the coroner, had said little but
had listened to all. Occasionally he would dart from the room, and
return a few moments later, scribbling in his notebook. He was an
alert little man, with beady black eyes and a stubby black mustache.

"I want a few words with that caterer's man," he said, suddenly, "and
then they'd better clear away this supper business and go home."

We all turned to look at the table. It stood in the end of the
dining-room that was back of the living-room. The sideboard was at the
opposite end, back of the hall, and it was directly in front of the
sideboard that Somers' body lay.

Lowney turned on more light, and a thrill went through us at the
incongruity of that gay table and the tragedy so near it. As always at
Vicky Van's parties, the appointments were dainty and elaborate.
Flowers decorated the table; lace, silver, and glass were of finest
quality; and in the centre was the contrivance known as a "Jack Horner
Pie."

"That was to be the surprise," said Mrs. Reeves. "I knew about it.
The pie is full of lovely trinkets and little jokes on the guests."

"I thought those things were for children's parties," observed Fenn,